The Caged Bird Sings
by amour tue lentement
Summary: The princess and the horse - the murder of Yakuza boss Sosuke Aizen throws the most unlikely pair together. "Life is nothing but a competition to be the criminal, rather than the victim" - Betrand Russell For Miwa03
1. Find Air to Breathe Again

**Disclaimer: I am not Kubo Tite, if that wasn't clear enough.**

**AN: For Miwa03 :)

* * *

**

**one/une/ichii**

**::**

"_Here you are, down on your knees again/Trying to find air to breathe again"_

**All Around Me; **Flyleaf

**::**

So this was how it was.

"_Aizen-sama sees potential in you," _the blank-faced man had said, handing her a business card. _"If you wish Inoue-chan, Aizen-sama may also arrange for you to come into the country to start your…" _he paused, silently trying to remember what it was that yet another one of these girls had "potential" in.

Starry-eyed, Orihime Inoue had snatched the card from his hand. _"Singing!" _She turned her innocent gaze on him. _"Aizen-sama said he could get me a record deal! Isn't that great- Mr. Schiffer was it?" _She trailed off, tapping her chin absentmindedly.

Ulquoirra Schiffer looked down at her, blinking slowly. Once upon a time, the naivety of these girls had filled him with guilt. Now, he could look at them with an empty heart. _"Yes. Great."_

There hadn't been anything great about it. A promise for fame and fortune filled Inoue's head as she sat on the plane, watching the green pastures of her rural home pass her by. She didn't say anything when she'd been promised entry to Japan without a passport, she put all her faith in this "Aizen-sama" the one who could "work wonders".

And then she'd ended up there: in that dark room, alone.

"_You see, it is not that easy," _Aizen-sama had explained to the row of idealistic girls lined up in his office. One by one, like dominoes, their bright smiles faded into oblivion. _"It takes money for me to bring all of you here," _he paused in front of one of the girls, cupping her chin in his hand, leering like a predator. _"And before any of you can go anywhere, you're going to have to start making money for me."_

"_Money for you?" _The girl next to Inoue asked nervously. _"Doing what?"_

Aizen's smile held innocence, but the glint in his eyes said otherwise. _"Depending on the individual customer-" _he paused, letting his 'subtle' choice of words sink in. _"Not much."_

Every once in a while, _'special' _women got Aizen-sama's _'special' _attention. As the doors to her room slid open slowly, Inoue realized with fear that her time had come.

"'_Ay," _the man who'd come to fetch her – must've been someone new, his spiked white hair and pale skin stood out in comparison to the rest of Aizen's men. "'Boss'" – his tone was derisive – "wants ya."

The man must have sensed her discomfort. Putting a hand on her back like he was helping her out of her isolation chamber, he muttered, "Don't worry about it, I've got this." A small smirk formed on his face, but disappeared just as quickly as it had come. She wondered for a moment if she had imagined it, but there was no time to ask about it, they reached the door to Aizen's office too soon.

Winking at her and putting a hand in his pocket, the man knocked on the door. Inoue stood quietly, looking down at her bare feet, trying to force herself to stay calm. Her throat was bone dry, and her eyes were stinging with the tears inevitably on their way.

"Come in." Aizen's disturbingly paternal voice floated from inside the office. It was plain and square and almost everything inside was white. The blinds were shut, a tiny bit of light shining through like stripes. He looked up from the papers he'd been shuffling, a calm smile spreading on his face. "Shiro, you may leave. I'll call you if I need anything." The brown-haired man's movements were fluid as he got up from behind his desk, taking his glasses off and pushing his hair out of his face.

Inoue let her eyes wander up from her feet, daring to look around. Aizen was smiling that fatherly smile, but the gleam in his eyes gave another impression. Trying to avoid his gaze, she turned away to look at Shiro, who was still hovering by her side. He brushed past her, closing the door without leaving the office.

Aizen's jaw tightened. "I said you may leave."

Shiro threw his head back and laughed, making Inoue jump. She turned to stare at him with wide eyes, wondering what was wrong with him. His laugh was high-pitched and loud, and practically cut through the air like a knife.

"Is there something funny-?" Aizen barely managed to finish his sentence before Shiro took his hand out of his pocket, holding out a pistol. Before the man even had time to react, He pulled the trigger, shooting Aizen in the torso.

Inoue screamed in panic as Aizen doubled over, collapsing to his knees. His dark eyes went wide. Blood seeped through his white button-down shirt, staining the blue of his blazer. His breathing went ragged as he struggled to look up, sending a murderous glare in Shiro's direction. _"D-damn you!" _His voice was a dark growl as he made a pathetic attempt to grab his own gun.

"_Tch!" _Shiro was over in moments, slamming his foot into Aizen's gut before he had the chance to even aim the pistol. "Where the fuck is it?" He spat, kicking Aizen once more. He took the sunglasses off, dropping them on the floor so that Aizen would be forced to look him in the eyes.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Aizen gritted his teeth, holding on to his wound. The smirk on Shiro's face melted away, replaced by a shadowy scowl. He brought his foot back down on Aizen, stomping into his body like he was stomping out a cigarette. The injured man coughed out blood, staining the white carpet with sin. Another kick sent the pistol flying out of his shaking hands, skittering across the floor.

On an impulse, Inoue took a step forwards from the corner she'd been cowering in, grabbing the gun quickly.

Both men looked at her, distracted. Aizen lifted his head. "Kill him!" He yelled; his voice gruff and weak. Blood was now pouring from his mouth like water from a faucet.

"You're not dead yet?" Shiro growled, but stopped when Inoue raised the gun, putting a finger on the trigger.

"Do it! _Now!"_

Inoue squeezed her eyes shut, trying to stop her hands from shaking. Her eyes stung with the tears she'd been holding back. The gun was small, but it felt like it weighed a ton as she tried to keep her aim steady.

"You _can't_ do it," Shiro said, his voice soft for a moment. Inoue let her eyes meet his, and her breath caught in his throat. His eyes were strange to say the least, bright yellow irises and black where white should've been. It was like they stared through her soul, sensing her weakness. "Put it down," he smirked, taking a step forwards. "Woman-"

Inoue shook her head as fast as she could, like she could shield herself from the truth. Holding her breath, she pulled the trigger.

Aizen didn't even have the chance to shout – the bullet went right through his forehead, killing him instantly. He crumpled to the ground in a heap, eyes wide open. Inoue's body wracked as she choked out a sob, wondering how she could've brought herself to do it. But before she could move to try and kill Shiro to, he ran towards her, grabbing her wrists and pinning her against the door to the office.

"The fuck do you think you're doing?" He hissed, tightening his grip on her.

Before she could even try to get free, there was noise on the other side of the door. "Aizen-sama? It's Tousen." Shiro froze, dark eyes sliding towards the tinted window on the door. "Aizen-sama, we heard gunshots I called the po-"

"_Shit!" _Shiro let go of Inoue, moving over to Aizen's body. Tousen started jiggling the knob, still calling for Aizen, asking if everything was under control. "What're you doing over there? You killed him." He grabbed Aizen's arms, dragging him towards the window. Inoue, still shaken, walked over and grabbed his legs, Shiro's words buzzing around in her head.

_You killed him._

Shiro opened the window wider, stepping out onto the fire escape. Inoue followed his every move, more focused on trying to breathe again. She didn't think she'd remember how. In one day, she'd gone from caged bird to murderer.


	2. Blood On My Hands

**AN: **I forgot to say so last chapter, but thanks to KillforKlondike for beta-ing :D. & the officers do kind of lighten the mood; hopefully it isn't too annoying.

* * *

**two/deaux/nii**

**::**

"_The blood on my hands is something I cannot forget_

_Cannot forget"_

**Not Good Enough For Truth Or Cliché; **Escape the Fate

**::**

There were many things Officer Renji Abarai found scary about his bosses. There was the way Byakuya Kuchiki never blinked, _ever_. It was like he expected something horrible to happen in the second it took to blink, and was always on the lookout for it. His younger sister would run off with some delinquent, his wife would die – it was always _something_. Kuchiki would stand there, motionless, staring at Abarai and his partner Ishida as if he was just _waiting _for them to screw up.

And then there was Chief Yamamoto.

Renji couldn't even make up his mind about what it was that made the old man so frightening. Maybe it was the huge, ugly scar that stretched across the chief's shiny bald head. Renji had the feeling that whoever had given him that scar walked off with much more severe injuries. Maybe it was the fact that, for an old guy, he was _ripped_. You could barely make out his biceps under the sleeves of his blue shirt. Maybe it was that big, fuzzy, overgrown caterpillar of a moustache.

"Officers, I know the two of you are on desk duty from the incident involving Apporo-Grantz, but there is a case I would like you to look into." As Yamamoto spoke, his gargantuan moustache moved, like the bristles at a car wash.

Yeah, it was definitely the moustache.

"Chief, that was all in self-defense – Grantz tried to do some kind of weird voodoo on us," Abarai blurted out. His face went slightly red when he was cut down by the glares of his superiors.

"What is it, sir?" Uryuu Ishida asked, getting right to the point.

Byakuya dropped a manila folder on Yamamoto's desk, not saying a word. Ishida picked it up and flipped through it, frowning slightly when he saw all the pictures in it.

There was a photograph of a man found in the dumpster of an alleyway. He wore an expensive designer suit and large sunglasses had been knocked off of his face. Even though the man was badly bruised and bloodied, you could still vaguely make out the colorful tattoos peeking out from behind his collar. He had been shot about four times, twice in the chest, once in the shoulder, and once in the foot. Whoever had killed him didn't want him dead immediately, if the autopsy was correct, and the bullet lodged in his shoulder had been shot first.

"Yakuza?" Ishida asked.

Byakuya nodded. "A man who referred to himself as Yami, he worked underneath Sosuke Aizen. His associates cleared out the building the moment his body was found." (At the mention of Aizen's name, Yamamoto scowled, and his moustache moved again. Abarai twitched.)

The second picture depicted the mastermind himself, buried in a public park. Aizen had been beaten, and dropped haphazardly into the hole. He had been killed in a similar fashion to Yami, though he had only been shot twice. There were severe contusions on his torso, almost as if he had been beaten with a blunt object. Other photos revealed that he'd been stomped on, the ugly purple bruises taking the form of shoeprints. He too had been shot, once in the torso, just barely missing a few vital organs, and once in the head.

"Anything you officers can conclude from this?" Byakuya spoke, superiority dripping from every word.

"Well…" Abarai flipped through the file, wracking his brain for something to say that would make him sound more intelligent.

"Well both victims presumably had some sort of important information, shooting them in the stomach and shoulder after killing them wouldn't make much sense if the killer wanted them to die right away." Ishida cut him off automatically. Yamamoto looked at the man like he could have kissed him, which was extremely disturbing. Unperturbed, Ishida continued:

"Another thing is that the shooter shows expert marksmanship, the first shots fired did not hit anything vital, meaning they were aimed skillfully. The last one in Yami's case killed instantly, but Aizen's was done, less competently if you will. Finally, both of them were shot with silver bullets, which might be a signature thing for the killer," Ishida finished breathlessly, before his partner even had time to blink. Yamamoto looked as though he was ready to hug the man.

Byakuya glanced at Renji. "What were you going to say?"

The red-haired man looked down at the desk. "What he said…"

"Either way," the Chief's gruff voice broke the tension. "You two will be investigating this. I trust that this should be relatively easy for you." By you, he meant Ishida. Of course.

"Yes sir," Ishida nodded politely, at the same time Renji sighed "Yessir."

Was it too late to switch back to desk duty?

**::**

At about eleven am, Inoue woke up, trying to remember what day it was.

For a moment, the peeling blue wallpaper that adorned old, cracked walls reminded her of home, way back across the ocean. Sitting up in a queen sized bed that was too soft, she wondered if somehow, time had turned back, and that she'd never left. Some part of her acknowledged it as a stupid idea, but the more sentimental side of Inoue took over, and she found herself waiting to hear her mother's voice, calling her downstairs for pancakes.

Home. Would she ever have such a thing again?

The redhead's stomach churned when her feet touched the rough carpeting on the floor. No, home was too far away. Memories of what had happened less than twenty-four hours ago came flooding in, washing over her. Maybe flooding was too light of a word – it felt more as though Inoue had been buried on the beach, only to find that a tsunami was coming. She drowned in recollections of _the incident_ (as she'd come to think of it), the gunshot still ringing in her ears.

Biting her lip hard enough to draw blood, Inoue silently crept across the tiny room, pushing the door open slowly. She was in one of those cheap motel rooms. Outside the bedroom was what was supposed to be a living space, a tiny plaid couch sat opposite an equally tiny television, switched on to the news. A kitchen table was in the far corner. She swept her gaze over the other room. The man, Shiro, was nowhere in sight.

Not even stopping to think over the situation, Inoue hurried across the living room, right to the phone. Glancing back and forth, she picked it up, pressing the buttons with unnecessary force.

"Hello? Operator?" She asked hopefully, her voice shaking. "Hello?" Slowly, it dawned on her that there had been no dial tone. A glance at the telephone jack confirmed that the wire had been severed. "Dammit," she muttered under her breath, slamming the phone back down.

The reception desk – they _had _to let her use the phone down there, right? Maybe if she mentioned that it was an emergency….

She ran, too fast, nearly falling. Eating was something Inoue had completely forgotten; she'd spent a whole day sleeping. It was catching up with her then, every step made her dizzy. Nonetheless, she walked over to the door, grabbing on to the handle and twisting it, pushing with all her might.

It was a pull door.

Cursing more, Inoue yanked the door open, stepping out into the hallway and colliding immediately with someone else.

Both Inoue and Shiro toppled over, the tray he'd been carrying crash landed onto the carpet. Shiro blinked for a moment, bewildered, most likely from hitting his head on the ground so hard. Inoue threw her arms out to stop her fall, landing with her face only inches from his. He frowned at Inoue, as if he couldn't remember who she was for a moment. Inoue looked down at him, grey eyes wide.

"Happy to see me, princess?"

_How the hell could he be so casual? _Horrified, the redhead scrambled backwards, standing up and backing as far away from him as she could. She couldn't shake the feeling that if she hadn't landed on him the way she did, he would've pulled out his gun and shot her on the spot. She found herself staring at the holster, barely visible beneath his baggy white shirt. (Oh, great. He'd even gone about making a change of clothes.)

Almost as if he could read her mind, Shiro shook his head, picking up the items he'd dropped. "I'm not gonna shoot you, you don't have shit to worry about." Everything about him was casual, from the way he set his stuff down on the counter, to the way he twirled his keys around on one finger.

Throat dry, Inoue somehow managed to croak out: "H-how do I know that?"

Shiro's grin lessened, and he looked genuinely confused. Now that Inoue thought about it, he did have a pretty face, strong jaw, pouty lips. She shook that thought out of her head immediately – no way in hell would she ever find some psycho attractive. "I'm gonna help you, stupid. We're partners, aren't we?"

_Partners?_

He continued unpacking things, as if he'd just gotten back from the grocery store. "Cops should get a security tape in about an hour, and it'll take them a little while to find the exact timing of the murder. We should be outta this place by about one-thirty, we'll probably head to Okinawa or some shit and get some plane tickets at another motel." As he spoke about evading law enforcement, he took out two packets of instant ramen, tearing them with his teeth.

"What're you…?" Words just about escaped Inoue.

"Breakfast," Shiro rolled his eyes as if it was only obvious. He went back to his monologue. "The longer the flight the better; they might notice us by then, and if we get far away, it should be harder to trace us down."

_Us. We._

"I'm not going anywhere with you." Defiance bubbled up in Inoue, and she forced herself to meet those odd eyes with what she hoped came off as a confident glare.

"Well I can't just leave you here, now can I, princess? Then I actually _would _have to kill you," he said it calmly, with that same smug look on his face. "Who are you anyway?"

"I-Inoue Orihime."

Shiro made a small noise that sounded like _'tch'. _"Hime? So you are a princess."

"What?"

"Well Hime, you should hurry your ass up and eat." He walked over to the living room and sat down at the table. Slowly, she walked inside too, pulling the door shut tight. "As cute as you look right now, we still gotta get you some new clothes."

For the first time since waking up, Inoue looked down at herself. Somewhere along the line, she had changed out of the blood-stained kimono, and into an oversized white button-down shirt. His.

Her face went bright red, and she let out a small squealing noise, suddenly self conscious. "You gave me _this?" _She felt strange wearing his clothes, even though she hadn't done anything with him the other night.

Other than commit murder of course.

"Sorry I don't carry women's clothing around with me," the white-haired man said flatly. "Next time I'll lend you one of my fucking dresses." He laughed when he saw the look on her face, as though she wasn't sure how to react. Abandoning his ramen, he walked up close to her (too close) and pinched her cheeks. "Don't look like that Hime," he said softly, smirking. "Think of it as an adventure."

Technically, she _had _always wanted one.

* * *

**EN: **Ichigo: main character or support?**  
**


	3. Hanged Body

**AN: **Ahh is anyone else sick and tired of Aizen in cannon? Here I thought Gin had ended the arc, and bam. Kubo slaps me in the face with a wet fish. Figuratively XD. It's way past ridiculous - _ - . Aizen's pulled way too many twists out of his ass. Aside from that, I saw Gin's double agent-ness coming :D

On another note, I'll probably change the genre.

* * *

**three/trois/san**

**::**

_"The evening sky which lights up the hanged body_

_Hey, why are you leaving us?"_

**-Quarter Life; **lynch.

**::**

Inoue had only heard stories about crime rings, underground drug lords, and mafias. According to the stories (which mainly consisted of Saturday morning television), they were all wealthy men with shady offices, huge body guards, and fluffy white cats. And even whilst cuddling a kitten named Mr. Fluffysocks or Little Kitty Galore or something equally ridiculous, they still managed to be (in the words of her old friend Tatsuki) hella intimidating. So, when she'd heard Shiro talk about his 'connections', it had sent a shudder down her spine.

Now she was beginning to regret that feeling.

"The hell did you get yourself into this time?" Shiro's "associate" asked, frowning and removing a pair of futuristic sunglasses from his face. "I'm getting tired of bailing your ass out."

"Heh, c'mon, you don't mean that," Shiro grinned, stuffing the empty ramen cups into a plastic bag. "Where would ya be if it weren't for me anyway?" He looked over at Inoue as though he'd just remembered that she was still there. Apparently, being with other people was something that Shiro wasn't quite used to, he forgot her presence quite often. "Oh yeah, Hime this is Tensa, Tensa, Hime."

Tensa? "Is that e-even a name?" Inoue blurted out before she could stop herself.

"It's my name," Tensa said sharply, cutting her down with a glare.

Well forget about him not being intimidating.

Tensa tore his gaze away only once the redhead's gaze returned to her feet. "Is that why you asked for the clothes?" There was something disapproving about his gaze, and Inoue found herself wishing that the floor would open up and swallow her alive. Did the man ever smile? _Ever?_ He looked young, but had all the bitterness of someone twice his age.

"Yeah," Shiro ran a hand through his hair, still grinning. Tensa must have been someone important, Inoue figured, Shiro was being just a bit quieter than usual. Not that she would know what he was like on a normal day, even if murder came naturally to him. "Why don't you go change into it," he handed her the bundle of clothes.

"Yeah," she echoed weakly, taking the clothes and walking back into the bedroom. Inoue took the clothes out of the bag carefully, hands shaking slightly. No matter how hard she tried, it was near impossible to wrap her mind around all of this. It was happening so fast... Whatever had happened to the old days? Then, the only thing she thought about was leaving, and now, nothing sounded better than going back home.

_"Prostitute?" _Tensa's flat voice was low, but it carried into the bedroom nonetheless.

_"'Tch, something like that..." _Shiro said. _"It's not like that, I swear. Just kinda happened. What?"_

_"I suppose it doesn't matter, anyway. When are you going to get rid of her?"_

Get rid of her? Inoue tensed. They wouldn't...would they?

_"..." _Shiro's silence wasn't exactly reassuring. What about being 'partners'? Inoue's throat suddenly felt dry again, and she leaned against the door, pressing her ear to it.

_"Don't do anything stupid." _It was only one sentence, a few words, but it was heavier than lead.

**::**

Abarai was awoken, rather rudely in his humble opinion, from a peaceful nap by his partner dropping a stack of files on his desk. He just about jumped out of his skin, staring up at Ishida foggily. "What happened?" The redhead croaked as his eyes adjusted to the light. His head was swimming, damn, this was his nap time, _no one_ was supposed to interrupt him. Apparently, Ishida wasn't aware of that rule, he stood expectantly over Abarai, flipping to a page in a particularly heavy file.

"Tensa Zangetsu," he said, pointing to a random page.

"Gazuntight," Abarai said sarcastically, putting his head back down on the desk. Ishida slammed his hand down on the desk, waking his partner back up. Good god, what a nuisance.

"Ha, funny," he said dryly. "Get up, this is a lead. Tensa's carried out several murders similar to this one. He's been wanted for years."

"So you sayin' he did it?"

Ishida sighed, unable to fathom how stupid Abarai was. "No."

"Then what's the point?"

Ishida put the file down, and leafed through his pile until he found the one he was looking for. Abarai was suddenly struck by Ishida's work ethic. They'd been on the case for a grand total of two hours, and he'd already gone and dug up all the information he could find. While Abarai had gone promptly to his desk, drained a decaffeinated mocha, and gone right to sleep. A twinge of guilt passed through him - it was no wonder Byakuya gave him such dirty looks all of the time.

"The Kurosaki House," Ishida lay the papers out on the desk. "They were known for this type of thing, weren't they? Assassinations? Pretty powerful up until Isshin's son became heir. Now they pretty much work for the police."

Abarai knew deep down that this was probably dreadfully important in some way, but he was just to freaking tired to think about it. Stupid decaff. He looked up at the raven, not saying a word.

"Aizen was killed Kurosaki style," Ishida finally gave in, stating what he'd been trying to get at all along.

Something clicked. "But the Kurosaki's don't do this kind of thing anymore, do they?"

Ishida finally smiled. "That's what we've got to find out, isn't it?"

* * *

**End Note: **Tensa Zangetsu ftw. :D Love the fact that he fused with the hollow for some reason. Ah well, sorry for the shortness, more will happen next chapter.


	4. Fly With Me

**AN: **I want to apologize for the crappiness of this chapter T.T**  
**

* * *

**four/quatre/yon**

**::**

_"You won't be living for long, so just fly with me die with me."_

**-Graveyard Dancing, **D.R.U.G.S.

**::**

_The air was heavy with smog, cigarette smoke, and the overbearing, unmistakable stench of perfume__. Every time he inhaled, Shiro had to fight back the feeling that he was being suffocated by some sort of hooker-pillow. Grimacing, he flicked his lighter on, only to find out - surprise, surprise - it was empty. Cursing under his breath, he tossed the useless thing aside, not bothering to watch where it landed._

_Well this sucked._

_"Hey kid!" A gruff voice called out. A dark shadow passed over Shiro, and he looked up to see a man that could only be discribed as a walking brick wall hovering over him. He sneered down a bulbous nose at the white-haired teen. In his hands, he held the discarded lighter. "The fuck do you think you're doin' out here?"_

_"Yami," the giant's skinny friend said, holding out a hand to block his path. "Have you forgotten the reason we came here?"  
_

_Shiro looked up, unlit cigarette dangling between his teeth. "Fuck off."_

_"Yami-" the shorter one of the two warned._

_"What?" Yami raged. Something about his voice reminded Shiro of a bull about to charge. He bent down, bringing his face level to Shiro's. "Why don't you say that again?"_

_Shiro took the cigarette out of his mouth, smiling innocently at the two men. "I told you and your boyfriend to fuck off."_

_Not even Yami's meaty fist making contact with the side of his head could have wiped the smirk off of Shiro's face. Roaring something unintelligable, he lunged for the skinny teen, ignoring his partner's cries of protest. Shiro just barely managed to duck out of the way. With what must have been some sort of tribal battle cry, Yami swung at him again, missing and hitting the brick wall of the building Shiro had been leaning against. Shiro twisted to the side, delivering a kick to Yami's stomach that sent the man doubling over._

_"Perhaps we should get back before you embarrass yourself further," the skinny man dead-panned._

_"Shut up Ulquoirra!" Yami said. He swung another punch at Shiro, landing it that time. Shiro skidded backwards a few steps.  
_

_"Ha!" Shiro's grin stretched across his face. He turned away, spitting blood onto the sidewalk. "I'm just gettin' started."_

_Ulquiorra raised a black eyebrow, but made no move to get Yami out of it._

_Yami's beady eyes narrowed, and he cracked his large knuckles. With a grunt, he flexed and swung again, hitting Shiro right across the jaw. A vein throbbed in his forehead when Shiro picked himself back up off of the ground, wiping his mouth with the back of his sleeve. "Don't ya stay down, kid?"_

_Shiro barked out a laugh, taking a defensive stance and tossing his jacket to the side. It lay in a crumpled heap at Ulquoirra's feet, the contents of the pockets spilling out. Ulquiorra turned over a bag of white powder with his shoe, looking mildly amused._

_ "Pretty serious stuff," Yami nodded towards it._

_Shiro spat again, still posed for attack. "It ain't mine."_

_"Tell me," Ulquiorra said. "Who are you affiliated with?"_

_Shiro sneered at the older man, yellow irses ablaze. "Nobody, prick."_

_"Come back with us," Ulquoirra said, without a moment's hesitation. Yami's jaw dropped, but was silenced with a look. "You need money right?"_

_The white-haired boy snorted. "Yeah."_

_"Do you know a man by the name of Aizen?"_

**::**

The Kurosaki house looked like something out of a kung-fu movie - from the koi pond to the shishi-odoshi out front. Abarai stared up at the massive front door, feeling mildly intimidated. He nudged Ishida, pointing towards the front of the estate. "No one's seen Ishiin in years, what d'ya think he looks like now?"

Ishida either had no idea, or was purposefully ignoring him, because he remained silent. Abarai decided to assume it was the first one.

Fifteen years ago, Ishiin Kurosaki had gotten his long time girlfriend pregnant, and ducked out of the "family business." An entire cartel war had gone on for years after his departure, rival houses scrambling to take his place up top. Ishiin had sworn out of everything, severing all contacts and retiring home with his wife, who had two more children before passing away for unknown reasons. Since then, his brother Zangetsu and son Ichigo had stepped up to represent him. For all the two officers knew, he could have been the fearful ex-drug-dealer whose name still floated across the streets at night.

"Well, aren't you going to knock?" Ishida asked, effectively taking a razor blade to Abarai's inner monologue.

"Aren't you?"

_"_I asked first."

Abarai smirked. "So _that's _how it is, hm? It's okay if you're scared Uryuu-kun," he said casually, trying to ignore the fact that his hands were shaking behind his back. His partner glared daggers at him, saying something about how stupid he was. The redhead had already stopped listening, instead reaching out for one of the giant brass knockers on the door. It swung open before he could even touch it.

_"Helloooo?" _A man in a hideous Hawaiin shirt asked, grinning like an idiot at the two men. "How can I help you?"

It took miraculous self-control for Abarai not to faint on the spot.

"Kurosaki Ishiin...?" He asked, feeling slightly lightheaded.

Hawaiin-shirt nodded, grinning even wider than he had before. "Come on in! My daughters were just about to make lunch!"

Former Yakuza leaders weren't supposed to greet strangers with warm offers of food. But then again, former Yakuza leaders weren't supposed to look so ridiculous.

Ishida was first to recover from the shock, stepping in after the middle-aged man. Abarai wiped the dumbfounded look off of his face, following suit quickly. The inside was heavily decorated with several pictures of Masaki, blown up to tapestry-size. The smell of curry drifted through the hallways, making the officer's nose itch. Was it a bad thing that he was disappointed by all of this?

Ishiin took a seat at his kitchen table, motioning for them to sit down as well. "How can I help you gentlemen?"

Ishida reached in his briefcase, pulling out the same manila folder Yamamota had given them before. He flipped through it, almost robotic in his movements. "Actually yes, there was an incident that's come to our attention. Are you familiar with an Aizen Sousuke?"

A cloud passed over Ishiin's face, but the smile stayed plastered on. "Who _isn't_ familiar with Aizen?"

"Well," Ishida said. "I'm sure you've heard the news about his death."

"Hey, dad -" a teen with wild orange hair paused in the doorway, scowling. He glanced between the three of them to the folder on the table, displaying Aizen's bloodied corpse. "What's going on?"

Ishiin turned around, rubbing the back of his head. "Ah, it's nothing Ichigo! Your daddy here's just taking care of some business!" He flashed his son a thumbs-up, the same goofy look crossing his face once again. Ichigo's left eye twitched.

"The hell?"

Ishiin puffed out his chest, letting out an over-dramatized laugh. "You just run along and play with your sisters now, okay?" He kept the grin on his face until Ichigo disappeared back the way he came, muttering under his breath about his idiotic father. Once he was out of earshot, Ishiin turned back towards the officers, all jovial behavior gone. "I'd rather not discuss this now."

"But Kurosaki-san," Abarai stammered.

"My family had nothing to do with any of it," Ishiin sad. "Please don't bring this around us again."

Ishida cleared his throat. "We're only doing our jobs, Kurosaki-san, you have to understand. The way both of them were killed, aligns with the usual way-"

Ishiin stood up suddenly, shaking the table. "Neither I, nor anyone else here had anything to do with it."

"Well, not necessarily _you, _but perhaps someone else with ties to the-"

_"Out!" _Ishiin barked, nostrils flaring. He paused, running a hand through his dark hair. "You'll have to excuse that. But there's nothing I can do for you men."

Abarai opened his mouth to respond, but Ishida grabbed his arm.

"Very well then. Thank you for your time," the brunette said, bowing slightly. He packed the folder up, pulling Abarai from the room.

Abarai stared at him in disbelief. "You'd give up our only lead so easily?" Whatever happened to the Ishida who would spend hours at the office, pouring over a single detail? The one with a ninety-two percent success rate when it came to catching perps? Unbelievable. Ishida said nothing, blue eyes scanning the hallways as they made their hasty retreat.

"...No," Ishida said after a long pause. "We're not going after Ishiin anymore. We're going to have to talk to someone else while he's gone."

It clicked.

"His son."

Ishida nodded, half a smirk playing at his lips. "Look whose catching on?"


	5. No Conscience

**AN: **It has been a very, very long time. Things are taking up in a different direction than I'd originally anticipated. I don't know how often this will be updated, just that I'd like to put more out there.

* * *

**five/cinq/go**

**::**

_I have no soul, no conscience  
_-**I Still Feel Her (Part III), **Jonny Craig

**::**

The muffled voices behind the door came to a stop when he knocked. For a while, the only sound came from the maid vacuuming down the hallway.

Ishiin shoved his hands into the pockets of his jacket, taking a deep breath. Hard to believe this was the place. It had been quite a long time since he'd had to set foot in cheap hotels like this one, and a big part of him hoped it would be the last. _I'm retired, _he'd wanted to say when he got the message. Ishiin read it over and over before finally pushing the white stationary into his fireplace, sitting down and watching the paper crumble to ash.

"_Where are you going?" _Yuzu had shouted at his retreating back as he left the house. _"Dad, dinner's almost ready!" _He hadn't even been able to face her.

The door to room 713 opened a crack. "Who is it?"

Urahara opened his fan, hiding his grin behind it. Ishiin ducked his head and stifled a sigh.

"Kurosaki-san."

There was a pause.

"Come in."

**::**

"So what are you going to do now?" Tensa's voice was as deadpan as ever.

Inoue swallowed nervously, ignoring the sharp pain that shot down her throat. She'd had to sit on her hands just to try and keep them from shaking. And even that wasn't helping very much.

Shiro stretched, yawning. "Probably lay low for a while. At least until the cash from this job runs out."

Tensa snorted. "That's what I've been meaning to ask you about..." he trailed off, and Inoue could see his eyes slide over to her in the rear view mirror. His grip on the steering wheel tightened just momentarily – but she could see the way his knuckles went white. He shook his head. "Never mind. We'll talk later."

"Fine with me," Shiro said. "I'm fucking exhausted."

"You overexert yourself. You ought to slow down and try thinking things through before you act for once."

Shiro's nose wrinkled. "Where's the fun in that?"

Inoue failed to see the fun in any of this, really.

The woman behind the desk at the motel hadn't asked any questions when they left. But Inoue noticed that she was deliberately avoiding their eyes. Shiro had been right about one thing. Whatever people would assume about their last minute stay, it sure wouldn't have anything to do with Aizen. She thought about mentioning how embarrassing it had been for the lady to ask them how they enjoyed the suite with that nervous look in her eyes, but it seemed pointless. He would probably just laugh at her.

_A modest prostitute, _she could just hear him bark out in laughter. It wouldn't have mattered that she had never actually done anything. Inoue shook her head to try and clear the thoughts out. When she looked up, Tensa's eyes were on her again.

"How's the usual spot looking?" Shiro asked.

Tensa tore his eyes away from her and looked back at the road ahead. "Whatever happened to lying low?" He came to a stop at a red light, the car's engine still purring. It was probably more expensive than anything Inoue had ever _seen _at home. "I got you a place in Osaka. But, I only told the landlady there would be one person staying there."

Did he _have _to keep staring at her? It was making her skin crawl. Not in the same way that some of the guys at Aizen's compound had – the one with the long hair and ridiculous collar had made her skin outright _itch_ – but there was a dead look to it. _Like Schiffer, _she'd decided. Only Ulquiorra didn't ask as many questions.

"I'll make something up," Shiro said. "But in the meantime..." he dug around in his jacket pocket for a cigarette. "You mind stopping by the main house for me? The old man doesn't like me hangin' around."

Tensa shook his head. "Is that where the money's coming from?"

"Easy. It was a request." He rolled down the window, letting out a stream of smoke. "And it worked. So what's the problem?"

"You know exactly what's wrong with this," Tensa answered flatly. "These things don't come without consequences."

**::**

The hotel reeked of mothballs and cheap lemon scent. _That doesn't matter, _he told himself as he and Urahara stepped inside. _You won't be in here for long._

Only one man was inside. He wore a completely white suit, down to the shoes. When he saw the Ishiin enter, he stood up from the tiny, round table, smoothing his jacket down. "Mr. Bach cannot be here this evening. He sends his apologies."

Great. Ishiin forced a smile. "That's just as well. You are...?"

"Haschwalth," the blond man said. So he _was _a foreigner. Juha's entire faction seemed to be comprised of them. "Please, sit."

Ishiin did as he was bid. "So does he always send you to run his errands?"

Haschwalth chose to ignore that comment."I'm sure you've already heard about Sousuke Aizen," he said instead, folding his hands on top of the table. "There's been a infighting ever since his body was found. His two associates Ichimaru and Tousen seem to have fled completely."

That sounded about right. Ishiin wouldn't have called Ichimaru the reliable sort. Tousen on the other hand...

"You know I'm out of the business," Ishiin said. "There's really no point in bringing me here to discuss this."

"I've heard that your son is running things now," Haschwalt said. "Coffee?" Without waiting for Ishiin to answer, he poured two cups. The steam curled upwards, and it was only then that Ishiin remembered that he was missing dinner to be there.

Politely, he took a sip before speaking. It was bitter and overly strong, as though it had been sitting out for hours. Ishiin coughed and reached for the sugar, adding two spoonfuls before taking another sip. "It's not the same as it was. He wants to go to the police academy like his mother." He paused, squinting at the cup. "Hazelnut?"

Haschwalt nodded. Ishiin put the cup down, not wanting to be rude. He would have much preferred tea.

Like before, Haschwalt ignored him. "The point is, Aizen's loss has created a power vacuum. One that several degenerates will be more than willing to fill in."

"And you want to prevent that."

Haschwalt blinked. "Not exactly."

Ishiin opened his mouth to say something, and promptly fell silent again. His eyes burned like someone had thrown acid in them. The room span around him, and the last thing he saw was Haschwalt's expressionless face before the room went black.

**::**

"_You're going to have to do it sooner or later," _Tensa's voice was low, but it carried through the tiny room nonetheless. Inoue's breath caught in her throat, but she managed to keep herself from gasping out loud. The television blared behind the two men, some game show. A man was trying to pronounce a tongue twister in English, and getting hit every time he slipped up.

"Why not later?" Shiro asked. There was the _snap _of a can being opened and a pause while he took a swig. "Besides, she makes a good cover."

"Cover or liability?" Tensa asked. He stood over the couch, facing opposite the television. The apartment only had one bedroom, separated from a dingy kitchen.

The landlady had wanted to show them around the tiny, cramped apartment, but Shiro handed her a roll of cash and she backed away. Tensa had instructed her to go off to sleep early. _You must be tired, _he had insisted, once they were settled. Inoue was careful not to mistake it for sympathy. _You should rest._

The fouton was paper thin, but it felt like heaven. Inoue had passed out for a blissful ten minutes. Then the people upstairs had started arguing and throwing things, and the commotion woke up someone's dog next door. Inoue had given up on sleep and was about to head into the kitchen/living room, but their voices had stopped her in her tracks.

"If you're worried about her talking, don't be," Shiro said. "She's the one who shot first. She's got just as much to lose."

Tensa didn't have a response to that. "I'll get you the money," he said instead. "Don't expect it until Thursday, though."

"Yeah, yeah."

Inoue waited until she heard the door shut before creeping out of the bedroom.

"You still awake, Princess?" Shiro asked. "If you're not taking the bed, then I will."

"He wants you to kill me," she said softly. Even saying the words out loud didn't make it seem real. A part of her was still convinced she would wake up back home in her bed, with her brother downstairs singing along to the radio off-key.

"He talks a lot of shit, but don't worry about it. He's soft."

She looked down at his hands. It was all too easy to picture the gun held between them. "But you're not."

Even when he was tired, Shiro's laugh was as sharp and grating as ever. "You're right. It would be easy." He stood up from the couch walking over. Instinctively, she flinched backwards, edging away from him until her back hit the wall. There was something deranged in the way he grinned. Shiro slammed a hand against the wall, just inches away from her face. "But I'm not going to do that, remember?"

Her breath stuck in her throat.

"I didn't tell Tensa about it," Shiro said, stepping away. He shoved his hands in his pockets. When he did, his jacket moved, briefly exposing a black holster. "But I got us a job."

"Us?"

He grinned. "How would you feel about working as a hostess?"


End file.
